


ABC, 123, You and Me

by Magical_Awesome_Kid



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: ABC Challenge, Alien AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Cannon compliant, College AU, Cuddles, Dabbles, Fluff, Gen, High School AU, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Shorts, Steampunk AU, Will tag more as I write more - Freeform, ghost au, slices of life, sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 14:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17664629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magical_Awesome_Kid/pseuds/Magical_Awesome_Kid
Summary: Dabbles and shorts based on the alphabet. Each chapter has five words starting with the same letter, and each word leads to a story.Everything from Sky pirates to inner monologues! Anything may (or may not) be shipped! Enjoy!





	ABC, 123, You and Me

**Afterlife**

            Virgil sighed as he took in the other residents of the house and their most recent… shenanigans. Yes, that was a nice way to put it.

            “Roman… what the fuck?”

            “Language!”

            Virgil looked to the person who had said that. Patton was in the very 80s sweater that he’d died in, with the bright orange stripes that reminded Virgil of a disposable paper cup from when he was a kid. Patton was, of course, pouting at him.

            Meanwhile, Princey was painting… something on the wall. The ever-dramatic ghost was in a white buttoned-up shirt and black slacks, the sleeves rolled even if he couldn’t actually get paint on him. A ghostly red letterman’s jacket lay on the sheet-covered couch next to him. “Well I saw that kid again today, and I think he had a camera! Him and the other one were talking about a show, and I want to make sure we spruce this place up! We could end up famous!”

            Virgil rubbed his temples. He was a ghost. He shouldn’t have to deal with headaches. This was homophobia. It was official that the afterlife was homophobic.

            After all, how in the hells did he end up here, in the place he died, with these losers anyway???

            Virgil’s senses buzzed. Turning away from where the 50s ghost was painting a mural on the wall in ancient paint and the 80s teen was adding hearts with some scattered markers that he’d collected, Virgil slipped into complete invisibility and sunk through the floor to the atrium. Cutting around, he slipped to the front of the house. His teather went to the fence at the end of the lawn, before the forest overtook the land, and a blue car sat just beyond the gate as that bespeckled kid came out once more. You’d think that, in the decade or so that Virgil had been dead, fashion would get better, but the kid was in a black button up with a _tie_ of all things. Clearly a nerd.

            Virgil got as close as he could, seeing as the kid was on his phone. Virgil wished that he’d had something slim like that, his old flip still in his pocket, somehow getting signals and everything.

            “…Remy I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times, this is not to get us a channel on youtube more famous then those… buster people. This is a scientific observation to understand the source of… No I cannot wait until you get done with your date! I am going. Good bye, Remy!” The kid hit the phone, disconnecting the sounds of whining from the other end. It sounded like the other kid that had come with this one.

            The kid pulled out a camera as well as several instruments. He set them on the boot of his car as he set the camera just inches from Virgil on the fence, facing it towards the house. The kid stepped in front and began recording.

            “This is Logan Sanders, age 17. The date is October 23rd, 2018. I am currently standing outside of the Knightly Manor, an abandoned late nineteenth century home in the town of Stewart, Florida. Readings I have collected indicate a strange energy emanating from this place, and I intend to investigate in hopes of discovering the source. I will be recording notes via camera for the time being.” He recited, enunciating each word easily. “And, for my idiotic friend Remy, I will prove once and for all that this place is, indeed, not haunted, and that there is no such things as magic and ghosts.”

            _Well, ouch._ Virgil thought as the kid said that. Really, Logan was just a couple of years younger then when Virgil died, but Patton had rubbed off on him calling everyone ‘kiddo.’

            “So you don’t believe in ghosts, huh?” Virgil muttered, a grin on his face. The afterlife, even with Roman and Patton, was boring, so it might be fun to mess with the little nerd.

            Giving into what Patton had called his ‘cat’ instincts, Virgil reached around and knocked the camera to the ground. It was one of those newer, compact ones, so when it hit the ground, it didn’t break, but Logan’s scramble to get it and check it over was entertaining. Logan then exited the yard to get his things, so Virgil went back to the house to stack some random chairs just for the hell of it.

            Much later, when Logan would rewind the footage, and he’d detect some strange feedback. Remy would, of course, tell him that it was a ghost, but Logan would disregard this. There was no such things as ghosts, after all.

* * *

 

**Algebra**

            “Math hates me, and I hate it back.” Roman bemoaned as he slammed his head into the table. “What’s the point of this??? When I’m on Broadway, I won’t have to calculate the square root of some imaginary number!”

            Logan sighed as his tutor student bemoaned some more. _You need the volunteer work for college._ The junior reminded himself as the sophomore cried out about death and destruction. “Roman, while you fail to see it, algebra is a basic and critical part of understanding the greater world around us.”

            “No, it’s just BORNING, Specs!”

            Logan could feel his hand begin to shake. He so desperately wanted to drop his pencil, pick up his bag, and _go._ He had an episode of Doctor Who saved to his home computer still, having missed the airing due to schedule conflicts, and he needed to swing by the one store in town that sold his favorite jam.

            Logan looked down at the sheet again. He wanted to give up so badly, but he was no quitter.

            He pulled out a sheet of lined paper and looked through a few of the word problems. Word problems were never his cup of tea, rather taking to just being handed straight formulas and calculating. The excess tended to be distracting, and, honestly, quite annoying, but it was possible that this dramatic student needed an example to take to the homework.

            Logan was no story teller, but he was observant. Roman’s t-shirt was from the last school production, and each cast and crew had theirs specially made with ‘cast’ or ‘crew’ on the back. Roman was cast. Logan then drew from his basic knowledge of theater, which was, sadly, not much, but he created a problem that would hopefully make the dramatic student focus.

            “Alright.” Logan said, turning the piece of paper to Roman as he tried to slide out of his chair and onto the floor. “If you wish not to focus on your homework, then let me pose to you a question about the theater.”

            Roman suddenly popped up in his chair. “Yes?”

            “Let us say, for example, that you are a student part of the production of… Sherlock Holmes.” Logan posed. “And, as part of your duties, you must sell a number of tickets for the production to be deemed successful and get funding next year.”

            “Oh Odin’s Eyepatch! The school is always so stingy on funding!” Roman nodded. “I happened to have sold about four dozen tickets last semester!”

            The bespecled student lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

            “Yes! If you have not noticed, Microsoft Nerd, is that I am a very people-person kind of guy.”

            “Satisfactory. Then this is a question you should surely understand. How would you calculate, then, the number of student, using the variable s, and parent, using the variable p, tickets you sold, if you were to sell two hundred tickets on opening night?

            Roman rolled his eyes as he grabbed the paper. “Well, that’s simple, teach. S+P=200.”

            “Indeed.” Logan kept his face neutral, but he was beginning to see the value of these types of problems. “Now, let us say that you made one thousand, four hundred, sixty dollars that night. Student tickets cost $6.50 while Parent tickets cost $8.50. How would you find the number of parents and students to attend based on money raised?”

            Roman began scribbling but paused before erasing it. He tried again before nodding to himself. “Ok, so if s and p are still whatever, then 6.50(s)+8.50(p)=1460… right?”

            “Indeed.” Logan let a small smirk slip to his face. “Now, how many parents were in attendance, if the total was 200 tickets sold?”

            Now _that_ was where Roman got stuck a bit, but, once Logan pointed out that he could move variables around, Roman was scribbling away like a mad man. When Roman threw down his pencil triumphantly, Logan asked, “The conclusion?”

            “We had 80 parents show up! Which means that 120 students ALSO showed up!” Roman grinned, his chest puffed in pride.

            Logan now fully smiled. “And did you see what you did there?”

            “I see that we got a good chunk of students coming?”

            “Roman,” Logan pulled out the homework sheet that Roman had been struggling with moments ago. “You answered this algebra question.” Given, the question was about pounds of materials, but the numbers were all the same.

            Roman looked between the question and the one he had written out. He cast a smirk at Logan after doing so. “Huh, maybe there is something to this algebra stuff after all.”

            “Shall we continue?”

* * *

 

**Altimeter**

            Roman grinned as their target came into view. “Specs, what are our bearings?” He yelled. Somewhere up in the airship, a young man in glasses growled as his instruments were thrown around. “We are at 20 thousand feet, but if you would stop driving like a blind chimpanzee, I could get a better reading!”

            The man in red crackled at the voice of his annoyed navigator. “Lo, I am the best sky pirate in the seven realms!” He said, pulling the airship out of the clouds that they had been hidden in. Their target was a large airship, beautifully made for design. It was one of the largest ones in the world, owned by one of the most evil families in it. They were old money, using it now to overcharge on rent within the little bit of space available to humanity. When the seas had risen and the land became small, most went to agriculture to feed who they could. Cities took to the steam age, and with waterways being unpredictable and no land to put down planes, airships took the sky.

            The Rainbow Skimmer was, according to Roman, one of the finest ships amongst them. It had once been a downed vessel, aging within one of the false islands of garbage that scattered around the globe. It had been Roman and Logan, two children born to the lowest levels of society, who had found the thing. Logan was an unchallenged genius, brilliant in his navigation skills and his constructions, though his conspiracy theory that some ancient humans had traveled to the moon was quite insane. Roman was a dreamer, and, where others saw trash, he could see treasure. He and Logan had looked to rebuild the vessel.

            The maiden flight, where the Rainbow Skimmer was more the fog skimmer, they had found the person who truly innovated the vessel, their current mechanic, who was screeching at Roman.

            Really, Surly Temple needed a breather.

            “I HEAR YOU VIRGIL!” Roman threw over the radio.

            “THEN STOP POURING ON THE PORT!” Virgil growled as he quickly stopped a steam flow from a pipe that had leaked. “I TOLD you that we needed more time for repairs after that last battle!”

            “I have faith in you!” Roman encouraged. And, he really did. Virgil had been raised as a noble, but he was not one to take to upper crust society, preferring to be squirreled away with his musical box and the darkness of an airship underbelly. Unlike Logan and Roman, who were figuring things out as they went, Virgil had been trained by his family’s airship mechanic, who had taken a shine to Virgil. It was, however, when his family realized the man’s acceptance of Virgil over shaping him into a person he should have been, he was fired and blacklisted within the province.

            The young noble had fled, angry at his parents. He’d slipped to the lowest levels, where he found the two ‘idiots’ as he called them trying to fly the machine. He’d ended up doing the safety testing, the improvements, and finding ways to make the thing faster, more stealthy, stronger. He stayed with the ship, because ‘you morons are going to destroy my baby without me,’ and that had been that.

            The dark mechanic swore as another bolt burst. “I don’t have faith in you!”

            Roman let off what his friends had addressed as his ‘offended princey’ noises.

            “No fighting, kiddos!”

            Ah, that was the fourth of their team. Patton had come from the upper echelons of society. While Virgil’s family had been wealthy in that they had one small airship, Patton’s family had a small fleet. Patton was a black sheep amongst his family, a person who had a heart of gold in a cloud of smog. In cities, where real plant life was so hard to find, it was the Foster Trees that managed the smog levels so that it would not completely poison the people there. The trees could convert carbon dioxide and other pollutants to energy, lighting the leaves with the energy. These fake trees were used in cities to manage the smog levels, but even then, the poorest areas couldn’t have more than a handful. Patton had always wanted to help people, giving trees away or expanding medication treatment, but his family had disagreed. He had been passed over for controlling shares of the Foster Company.

            Patton had wound up on their team when he had been flying with new Foster Trees to a noble home in a great city, where they could not grow many trees but wanted clean air. In the night, the Rainbow Skimmer had snuck up and had their tiny crew of 3 load in, ready to steal the 30 Foster Trees. They would have made it away unseen… Had a certain aristocrat not been there, taking a midnight stroll when he couldn’t sleep.

            Patton had, of course, been confused, but, instead of sounding the alarm, he asked what they were doing. Eventually, after trying to lie (which they did really badly), they told him the truth – they were going to steal the trees. Some were going to be converted for parts, but most were going to be given to a lower level of the city they were headed to.

            The young Foster had said they could take the trees, he wouldn’t say a thing, but on one condition – he got to come with, too.

            Patton was a jack of all trades, and his bubbly and inviting personality had been the critical part they needed to recruit a whole slew of people from all walks of life. The Rainbow Skimmer now boasted a team over 20, but, while Roman held the title of Captain, the four were the head pirates there.

            “Sorry, dad! Are you and the drop team ready?”

            “Boo, we always ready!” One of the others, Remy, called.

            In the bay, seven crew members, Patton at the lead checking harnesses, stood with ropes overhead, another eight in the catwalk. “We’re all good for drop!” Patton called, grabbing the eighth harness in his arms. They needed an empty one, after all.

            From the port and starboard sides, guns pulled out to give cover fire. Talyn and Joan were ready for when they pulled over the vessel.

            “Alright!” Roman grinned as the Rainbow Skimmer pulled over the other ship. “Gays away!”

            The retrieval mission had been a success. The weapons of the other ship had completely gummed up, and they were taken by surprise as the small pirate crew swooped in and stole away the target, the top scientist in the company. When they managed to retract the now-eight people, Roman swiftly dropped them back into the clouds and away from the ship just as Militant vessels were able to respond to calls of distress. Thanks to some handy work between Virgil and Roman, the most defining features of the Rainbow Skimmer pulled in, changed, or were covered, and the ship now resembled any small transport skimmer.

            Roman put the ship at a safe cruising altitude and set it to auto pilot at a hover. He headed down to the hold, just as Patton was leaning over a figure sat on the floor, grasping his chest. His hair was completely windblown, and his clothes clearly marked him as a member of the evil corporation. “Just breathe, kiddo. We got ya.”

            “Yes, and I am curious as to why our mysterious benefactor wanted you.” Logan said, now coming down from the navigation level. “He paid a hefty sum for you, and he insisted on as little human damage.”

            The man smiled up. “Well, yeah, you guys are the best, and you have a good rep for that.”

            Roman lifted an eyebrow. “So you have an idea as to why you are here?”

            “Yeah. Oh! Here.” The man pulled something out of his pocket. A small case, rectangular, about a foot long, half a foot wide, and an inch deep was extended to the captain. Roman continued to look confused, but he took it.

            “Roman, I would be careful…” Logan began to say, but the captain had already opened it.

            Inside was a bond worth the rest of the payment as well as the promised materials, a rare element used in only the fastest airships.

            Logan looked, putting things together faster than the captain. “You are our benefactor.”

            “Guilty.” The man shrugged. “I needed to get out of there, and, well, they weren’t letting me quit.”

            “Oh, kiddo!” Patton kneeled to hug the man. “Are you ok? Everything fine?”

            “Yeah, thanks.” He smiled back. “Oh, I’m Thomas, by the way!”

            “Thomas.” Logan nodded. “So what was so critical that they needed you?”

            Thomas winced. “Something big, and it could have been really bad. Thankfully, I destroyed my work in the ‘kidnapping,’ so the only plans are right here.”

            Patton looked before turning to Roman. “Roman, is there any chance the baddies will be after him?”

            “Most definitely.”

            “So… If Thomas doesn’t mind…”

            Thomas was confused even as Patton helped him up.

            One person came up and slung an arm around Thomas’ shoulder as the three captains spoke. “Welcome to the team, Tom. I’m Joan.”

            “Wait, what?” The man asked, turning to the other.

            Another walked up, shrugging as their bright hair bounced in a ponytail. “I’m pretty sure Patton’s adopted you already.”

            “We could use some help on mechanics.” Another person said. This one was wearing glasses and a pink scarf tied into an ascot. “Virgil is far too stressed down there.”

            Thomas opened his mouth, but another person threw themselves on his free shoulder. “So, Gurl, you know mechanics?”

            “Wha… I mean, yes? Some?”

            “Great! Cause I don’t. I know coffee and how to look cool.”

            “You mean like last week when you tripped down the stairs?”

            “You know what, Nate? You, me, Deny’s parking lot, tonight!”

            Thomas soon noticed a fourth join the captain, and he sighed. He hadn’t had much of a plan for after escape, anyway, so he guessed joining a pirate crew was pretty cool. 

* * *

 

** Applause **

            He could remember every moment so clearly.

            When Thomas was on stage, he was right up there with him. Through every line, every step, every tune, he was there.

            The spotlight would be burning but also warm, inviting like a hug. The stage floor worn down and cold, but the stomping of feet gave it new life every time. The crowds and critics could be unforgiving, meeting a passionate performance with cold stares, apathy, and, at worst, jeering.

            Nightmares haunted him of this, when the plays turned to pity and pride turned to agony. When the curtain would fall on him, burying him, suffocating him, just as he tried to beg for forgiveness for the failure. Others, he’d feel the weight of tomatoes and shoes and playbooks hit him as he’d run, run as fast as he could until he fell out of bed, drenched in sweat and swearing the smell of rotten fruit lingered in the air. Failure would laugh in his ears as he crumbled at night, only to hide his tears with make-up and a boastful attitude.

            But the _applause_ was something else. While every other aspect of the performance could turn around to terrorize him, the applause graced his ears, a wall of sound just of congratulations, of joy, of pure emotions and wonder. When Thomas heard the audience cheer, Roman felt what could only be called pure ecstasy, bliss, peace and light. In that moment, when the applause roared around him, he felt truly invincible, like every moment of his hard work had led up to this.

            He remembered every one so clearly. It was like a drug, one that kept him sane and steady when the days tore into him. He lived for the applause, because that meant that he had not failed but succeeded.

            Even when Logan tore into him with his raps and belittlement, when Patton pat his head and said ‘next time, kiddo,’ or just when Virgil rolled his eyes, Roman would keep his chin up, his dreams big for them… even if he felt so small.

            He felt so small, and the big world seemed to surround and drown him in darkness.

            So he held onto the applause.

* * *

 

**Alien**

            Logan dropped his bag as he entered his apartment, his body weary from the long day as he shuffled over to the couch and flopped in. His graduate studies were tearing into him as of late, some of his students had blown up part of the lab, and he’d broken the last jar of Crofters that morning trying to get ready for work. He hadn't slept well in some time, and it was showing today.

            It had been a long day, but Logan could only take a brief reprieve. He had so much work still to do, so many papers to grade. He had to…

            The door swung open. “Lo! I saw the CUTEST dog today! I didn’t know they came in so many sizes! You humans are so…” Logan looked up to the person who had walked in. They appeared to be a young man, around Logan’s age, though a bit taller. They wore what could be only descried as dad fashion, in a blue polo with a cardigan pulled over their shoulders and slacks, round glasses in front of their bright blue eyes.

            Just as the door was closed and locked, though, the person reached for their wrist, touching a watch. The image glitched out, like a video game, and the person had changed. Their skin, once tan, was now light blue, bushy black and blue locks replacing sandy brown. Their pastel purple pants were of a strange material, fitted and pulled down over the heal but exposing the toes, but a shirt was pulled over the top of the body, the same blue polo as he wore before. Strangest of all, a furry tail swung behind the person in soft blue, striped dark, and two antennae rose from their head.

            Logan tried to right himself. “Yes, we have many dog species, Patton. I can give you a book on…” Logan was stalled as Patton approached, his antennae glowing dark blue as he slid onto the couch. Without hesitating, he embraced Logan.

            The human was about to protest, but something… strange happened. Much of the tension and exhaustion pulled away, leaving relief and comfort in its place.

            “Oh, wait! I can’t do…” Patton pulled back. “I know you humans don’t cuddle as much, and, well, I’m sorry.”

            “What… was that?” Logan asked, feeling the exhaustion pull back.

            “Oh!” Patton released, and the exhaustion returned. “AH! I’m sorry! Do you humans not have the ability to Floosh? Oh, how rude of me! It wasn’t unpleasant, was it?”

            Logan blinked again. “On the contrary, it wasn’t… What is this ‘Floosh?’”

            Patton’s tail curled so the alien could play with the tuft at the end, a nervous habit he had. “Well, it’s something we Flurions have. We usually reserve it for between friends, because those who don’t might have an averse reaction? It’s hard to explain in your language, but it lets us… connect and share, lessen burdens.”

            Logan was intrigued by this. “May I have further demonstration? I would love to learn more about this phenomenon… Floosh? Was it?”

            Patton looked utterly surprised. “Uh, yeah! But, uh, to get the full experience, we gotta cuddle.”

            Logan winced. He was not a hugging or feely person, but Patton’s species seemed to be just that. The more that he learned about the alien that had crashed behind the science hall all those weeks ago, the more he learned that it would be very annoying to be on his planet.

            _Noble Prize. Science!_ He reminded himself as he nodded. “Yes, I guess we can… cuddle.”

            What Logan did not anticipate, though, was Patton’s burst of eagerness and excitement for a ‘proper’ cuddle. He ended up pushing away the coffee table and finding every soft item in the apartment, stripping bedding if need be. He made a nest in the living room, irking Logan with his messiness, but he promised that this would be the best Floosh. Logan decided to set a timer, as he still had work to do.

            Though, once Patton had pulled Logan into his arms, wrapping his tail around the human’s waist… all thoughts of getting up left him. All the exhaustion, some of which Logan didn’t even know he was carrying, came to the forefront before pulling away, the stress and anxiety draining from his face, his shoulders, his back… heck, he didn’t know he could carry stress in some places!

            Patton’s antennae glowed soft blue, feeling what Logan was feeling. Patton, who had been parts of Floosh for his whole life, could read Logan so clearly now. Maybe he should have mentioned it, but Floosh was shared between friends because it was more intimate, allowing another to trust to see your emotions. Sure, Patton could still read most humans on their more powerful emotions, but Logan kept many of his down, diluted. He did not allow himself to feel emotion to the fullest. Now, he was an open book.

            And Logan was _tired, beaten down, and exhausted._

            A rumble ran through Patton’s chest, not unlike a cat purr, as he tried to physically sooth Logan as much as mentally. Logan pushed his face into Patton’s reverberations, his glasses digging into the two of them.

            Patton smiled as he used one hand to tip them off, setting them to the side gently. “How are your observations going, kiddo?”

            “Mhm…” Logan replied. He felt so tired, but it was no longer a tired that weighed him down. While the Floosh relieved his mental strain, his body was now finding itself more at peace then it had in a long time. It sought to be rested, and Logan found himself slipping into deep sleep.

            Patton cooed softly at the adorable human in his arms. He spotted one of his Patton Pals in the corner, the little robots that he’d brought from his ship, and waved one over. In his own language, he instructed it to dim the lights and close the curtains. He figured that this was the first time in a very long time that Logan had gotten true rest, and he didn’t want to disturb it.

            When the Patton Pal teased him about cuddling Logan, Patton replied by swatting it with his tail.

            The Pal did what it was told, but it then came back with the other four, whom had been hiding about the apartment. The little disk robots with their six legs crawled over Patton and Logan before retracting their legs and going into sleep mode. The circles at the top of the five began to glow softly in various pastel shades, something that Patton immensely appreciated. He’d never been a fan of the dark.

            With everyone settled, he tucked his nose into Logan’s hair, taking a breath of the human’s strange scent. Jam, coffee, old books, and soap.

            Such an alien smell to Patton, but, in the nest, with his Pals and in Floosh, he’d never felt more at home on Earth.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and please kudo and comment! If anyone wants to take one of these and run with it, just let me know in the comments and link me so I can read!
> 
> Also, if you have a word you want to see, leave it here! 
> 
> NOTE: I refuse to do gore, anything sexually explicit, or graphic violence. Cartoon violence is allowed, but Logan will have a fit. Swearing as a title will be gently vetoed by Patton (but swears do appear in fics)


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